


tipping my tongue to tell you that it's love

by 152glasslippers



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Frank is a part of the Lieberman family, POV Multiple, Post-Season/Series 01, Pre-Relationship, and the Liebermans all ship him and Karen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 10:18:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16116359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/152glasslippers/pseuds/152glasslippers
Summary: “How did you two even meet?”Karen smirked and dropped her eyes to the countertop. “He never told you?”“I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but Frank doesn’t talk much. Especially about certain things.”Karen let out a breathy laugh. “And I’m one of those things?”Post-season 1 of The Punisher. Frank brings Karen to his weekly dinner with the Liebermans. (Alternatively titled: Everyone Knows Frank and Karen Are In Love)





	tipping my tongue to tell you that it's love

**Author's Note:**

> Originally inspired by the conversation between Leo and Frank where Leo says Frank is a lot scarier than Pete. (And then somehow grew into this behemoth??)

**_David_ **

It took two months of insisting for Frank to agree to dinner with Sarah and the kids. Just the one dinner, at first, right after the new year, but then another a few weeks later, and again the week after that, until dinner with Frank became a weekly ritual. It took another three months—three months of dinners on different nights at different times each week, as close to routine as either of them dared to get—for Frank to ask.

“Mind if I, uh…bring someone next week?”

They were standing on the front porch, just the two of them. David tried not to look too shocked.

“No. Of course not.” He hesitated, but the temptation to be a smart ass was too much to resist. “Mind if I ask who?”

Frank rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Couldn’t leave it alone, could you, Lieberman?”

“I don’t know, man,” he said with a laugh. He gave up trying to hold back his grin. “It could have been Curtis.”

“Bullshit. You’d have known if it was Curtis, the two of you always taking behind my back.”

“Hey, worrying about you is not the same as talking behind your back. We’re not middle schoolers.”

“Yeah, yeah.” But there was a note of grudging acceptance and a touch of humor in his voice. They stood there in silence for a minute, a quiet easiness between them.

“Does she know who I am?” David asked, his tone low. Frank looked at him, and he knew Frank saw all the questions he wasn’t asking: Does she know what we did? For us, for my family? How you almost died?

Frank’s face went blank, his eyes flat, the humor in his voice replaced with the kind of cold seriousness a man like Frank never truly lost.

“How do you think I found you, David?”

So Karen had known about him long before Frank officially became Pete.

And just like that, once again, Frank had admitted more about his relationship with Karen Page than he seemed to realize.

“We’ll play it however you want in front of the kids,” Frank was saying. “She’s good at that.”

“Let’s stick with the truth.”

Frank nodded. “Good man.”

He turned and headed toward his car then, but David called out to him before he even made it to the sidewalk.

“I’m excited to meet her, Pete.”

Frank turned back around, gave him one of those exasperated smiles. “Yeah, okay.”

In the next second, he was in the car, and in the one after that, he was gone.

\---

Sarah was in the kitchen putting away the rest of the leftovers, Zach and Leo presumably upstairs finishing their homework.

“Frank leave okay?” she asked without looking up from the pot she was scraping.

They called him Pete in front of the kids and anytime they were in earshot of strangers, but alone together like this, he was Frank.

“Mmhmm.” David reached across the counter, picked a green bean out of the bowl still sitting out. He slid onto a stool opposite her. “Guess who’s bringing someone to dinner next week.”

Sarah stopped scraping and looked up at him with big eyes, her spatula still in hand, the half-empty pot of mashed potatoes hovering over the Tupperware. “ _No_.” He nodded. Her eyes went wider. “Really? Who?”

He snuck another green bean. “Karen Page. She’s a reporter for the Bulletin.”

Sarah’s eyebrows went up. “He does know he’s supposed to be keeping a low profile, right?”

David smirked and pulled the bowl of green beans closer to him. Sarah went back to the mashed potatoes, finished piling them into their container and walked over to the sink, filling the pot with water to soak. She dried her hands on a dish towel and leaned against the counter, facing him.

“So who is she to Frank?”

He shrugged. “I asked him that myself, once.”

“And?”

David laughed. “And he didn’t answer.”

“Who do you think she is?”

“I don’t know, you know,” he said around another green bean. “She was off limits. To everyone.”

“What does that mean?”

He pushed the green beans back to the side.

“You remember that bomber, Lewis Wilson? Frank’s face went public and everyone thought they were working together?” Sarah leveled him with a look: _How could I forget?_ “Well, before all that, before anyone knew who he was, Frank made me find him. Wilson had it out for Karen. She was on the radio; he called in. He threatened her. And Frank went crazy.” He could still hear him in his head. _Nobody goes after her, not on my watch_. “It was the only time I’ve ever seen him like that. Not angry or vengeful, but…panicked. Scared.” He dropped his eyes to the countertop. “He didn’t even look like that when he was dying.”

_If something happens to her, I—_

He looked back up at Sarah.

“I tried to back him off of it; I didn’t want to lose focus. We were so close. We had Rollins’ name; we had Madani. I was so close to coming home.”

“What happened?” Sarah’s voice was soft.

“He threw a chair in my face.”

Sarah pursed her lips together, then laughed, like she didn’t know if she was supposed to, but she couldn’t hold it in. He laughed, too, smiling at her.

This was the kind of shit he’d missed.

“He compared her to you, actually.” He watched the laughter slowly slip off Sarah’s face. “He said, ‘What would you do if it was Sarah?’ And I told him, ‘Sarah’s my wife, my family.’ And he said, ‘So is Karen.’”

Sarah’s mouth fell open.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Yeah.” He rubbed a hand through his beard. “Didn’t even hesitate, you know, said it like it was the easiest thing.”

“Do you think he meant it?”

He could still see Frank, whole body shaking, slamming his fist on the table.

“Yeah, I do. But do I think he realized what he’d really said?” He laughed. “No.”

Sarah took a deep breath and shook her head. Small movements, like she was trying to process everything she’d heard but still couldn’t quite believe it. She focused on him again, raised her eyebrows.

“You think this dinner invite means he finally has?”

He laughed again, ducked his head to run a hand through his hair.

“As stubborn as he is?” Sarah smirked. “Even if he has, no way he’s ready to own up to it.”

Sarah pushed herself away from the counter, walked back toward him, pulled another Tupperware container from the cabinet, and reached for the green beans. He sank further into his seat, fully resting his head in his hand, relaxing into the sight of her, the familiarity, the rhythm of her movements. He watched as she finished transferring the rest of the green beans, popped the lid on with a snap. She looked up at him, something warm and playful in her eyes.

“Pete’s bringing a girl to dinner.”

David snorted. “Who’d have thought, huh?”

 

**_Sarah_ **

At first glance, Karen Page was so completely Frank’s opposite, it was absurd. The blonde hair, the cream-colored sweater. The fitted pencil skirt, the sensible but delicate heels. In every way Frank was dark, Karen was light; everywhere Frank was hard, Karen was soft. She almost laughed when David opened the front door to reveal the pair of them standing on her front porch.

Until she noticed Karen’s eyes.

Kind but keen; eyes that had seen too much, that knew things and hid it now behind polite observation.

Just like Frank.

It made a lot more sense after that.

“You must be Karen!” David practically yelled, loud enough that she wanted to bury her face in her hands. He was enjoying this way too much already, and they were only thirty seconds into the evening.

Karen smiled broadly, seemed to watch Frank roll his eyes with some amusement, and then David was ushering them into the house, saying “come in, come in” still at about three times his normal volume. Frank led Karen into the house with a hand at her back, and Sarah resisted the urge to throw a pointed glance at David. She stepped forward to introduce herself.

“Hi, I’m Sarah,” she said, holding out her hand.

“Karen. It’s really nice to meet you. Thank you for having me.”

“Of course! We’ve been looking forward to it.” She tilted her heard toward David. “Obviously.”

Karen’s smile deepened, and they both looked over at David and Frank.

 “I’m just excited!” David was saying, still grinning too much to sound seriously offended.

“Yeah, I know. Think the whole damn neighborhood knows.”

She looked back at Karen. Her smile had softened while she watched them, something quietly fond and happy in her eyes.

It was obvious, despite whatever Frank was or wasn’t willing to fess up to, that Karen cared about him.

It was hard to look at Frank sometimes, hard to see him and not think of her year without David, feel the crushing weight of it come rushing back. Even now that David was here and alive, she still wished for another person to talk to, another person who knew the truth, who she didn’t have to be careful around. Frank’s whole family was gone, and his life with them, his loss, was all a secret. She didn’t even like to think about how isolating it must be.

_I’ve been alone so long, I—I like it. You know, I hide in it._

But David had told her that—best guess—Karen knew everything.

_One thing I know is that the only way out is to find something that you care about._

Suddenly, she felt immensely grateful for Karen Page.

It helped that she was carrying a bottle of wine.

“This is for you.” Karen said, holding the bottle out to her. Rosé. “I asked if I could bring anything, and Frank said you liked wine, so…”

Sarah took it from her, smiling. “Did he tell you rosé is my drink of choice?”

Karen laughed, shaking her head. “No. Lucky guess.”

Before she could thank her, Leo opened the back door and stuck her head inside.

“Dad, the grill’s ready.”

David looked up from his conversation with Frank. “Thanks, kiddo. Hey, come inside a second; Pete’s here.”

Leo’s face brightened, and she disappeared for a second, yelling for Zach. The pair of them burst into the house a second later, practically running for the living room. Leo made it to them first.

“Hey, Pete.”                                                                                                                                                           

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Zach bumped into Sarah’s side, squeezing in between her and Leo. Sarah wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in closer. He didn’t fight it, leaning into her.

“Zach, Leo, this is Pete’s friend, Karen. Karen, these are our kids, Zach and Leo.”

They murmured soft hellos, and Karen smiled kindly. “Hi. I’ve heard a lot about you guys.”

“Really?” Leo asked, surprise breaking through her shyness.

Karen’s eyes flickered to Frank, like she was worried it was a trick question.

“Yeah.”

Leo’s smile grew even bigger.

“Hey Pete,” Zach said, excitedly. “Can we throw the football around before dinner?”

Sarah squeezed his shoulder tighter. He was so different from the kid he’d been six months ago, and while most of that had to do with David coming home, but it had all started with that first afternoon of football with Frank.

“Sure, bud. Head on out; I’ll be right there.”

Zach ran for the back door as fast as he’d come in, and David turned toward the kitchen, gesturing for Leo to follow him. “C’mon, kiddo. Let’s get cooking.”

Sarah watched them go with a smile, and when she turned back, Frank was looking between her and Karen.

“How much trouble am I gonna be in later if I leave you alone with her?”

Sarah looked at Karen, then back at Frank. “Which one of us are you asking?”

Frank grunted. “That sounds promising.”

“Guess you’ll have to take your chances,” Karen said to Frank, a small smile playing at her lips.

“Guess so, huh.”

“Mmm.”

She couldn’t help but stand there and watch them, somewhat in awe. She’d never actually seen Frank flirt before.

She’d flirted with him when he was Pete, of course, but despite the fact that he kept coming around, he’d never reciprocated, not really. It was obvious now why he hadn’t—he’d known David was alive the entire time—but before she’d known that, when she’d found out Pete Castiglione was Frank Castle, she’d assumed it was because he just couldn’t anymore. His wife was dead, and he was the Punisher. That part of his life was over.

But it turned out Frank Castle _could_ flirt. The back-and-forth between Frank and Karen wasn’t new; there was a relaxed, well-worn rhythm to it.

Whatever was going on between Karen and Frank had been going on for a while.

And then, so subtle she almost missed it, Frank raised an eyebrow at Karen, checking in. Karen nodded back, almost imperceptibly. Frank reached out, squeezed her arm lightly just above the elbow, smiled at Sarah, and walked from the room, yelling back at Zach, who’d been calling for him from the backyard.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming!”

The whole exchange was so quick, so practiced, the two of them so in sync, so in-tune with each other, that it took her a second to recover her voice and remember her manners.

“So…” she said slowly. Karen turned to her; she’d been looking in the direction of Frank’s exit. Sarah held up the bottle of wine Karen had given her. “We’re opening this now, right?”

Karen smiled, her biggest yet. “God, yes.”

\---

Sarah saved the hard questions for later that night, after dinner, after they’d relieved the kids and let them go upstairs. David and Frank were outside, cleaning up the grill, putting it away, and she and Karen were alone in the kitchen again. They’d just finished cleaning up—Karen had insisted on helping—and were standing across the counter from each other, their wine glasses between them. Sarah refilled Karen’s glass and then her own.

“So, I have to ask. A man like…” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “ _Frank_.” She set the bottle down, looked directly at Karen. “How did you two even meet?”

Karen smirked and dropped her eyes to the countertop. “He never told you?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but Frank doesn’t talk much. Especially about certain things.”

Karen let out a breathy laugh. “And I’m one of those things?”

Sarah raised her eyebrows, a silent, _What do you think?_

“Fair enough. Officially? He was a client at the law firm where I used to work.”

She watched Karen closely. “And unofficially?”

Karen hesitated, looked out the backdoor window at David and Frank. “I was at the hospital with another client of the firm’s.” She turned back to look her in the eye. “Frank came after him with a shotgun.”

Sarah opened her mouth but nothing came out. She stared at Karen, blinking. Karen just tilted her head and shrugged one shoulder before taking a hearty drink of wine.

She unstuck the words from her throat. “And then?”

“And then, what?”

“How did he go from man-who-shot-at-you to…? She gestured with her hand halfheartedly, still at a loss. “Whatever it is the two of you are now.”

Any trace of humor was wiped from Karen’s face, leaving only a somber sincerity. “He told me I was safe,” she said simply.

“And you believed him?”

“Wouldn’t you?” Karen’s eyes were sharp on hers, and it brought her up short.

Because of course she would. She had. She’d invited him into her home, let him fix her garage and her garbage disposal and her car. Let Leo spend time with him unsupervised, turned to him for help with Zach. She’d trusted him before she’d even known who he really was; she’d _told_ him so.

And now that she knew everything he’d done for David? Every promise he kept, every fight he’d fought? David could have parted ways with Frank once it was all over, once he was back home safe, free and clear, with her and the kids; Frank never would have held it against him. But even if David had wanted to, Sarah wouldn’t have let him. Frank was a part of the family now, whether he liked it or not. Even if they couldn’t introduce him to anyone, couldn’t tell anyone. Even if they had to call him Pete.

“Yeah,” she told Karen. “I would.”

An unspoken understanding passed between them, and they were quiet for a minute, drinking their wine in silence. Sarah played with her wine glass, twisting it idly. Finally, she let go of the glass, raised her eyes to meet Karen’s. “Did he really take you hostage once?”

Karen’s mouth quirked, like she was trying to hide a smile. “Twice, actually. But the second time was my idea.”

Sarah’s laughter burst out of her, surprising her, but once she started, she couldn’t stop. Karen started laughing, too, a bemused look on her face, like she was laughing more at Sarah laughing than anything else.

“What?” she finally asked, in between peals of laughter.

Sarah caught her breath, shaking her head. “You two really are a match.”

 

**_Karen_ **

It was the middle of summer—July, hot—when Leo cornered her in the kitchen while she was finishing cleaning up after dinner.

David and Sarah were out for the night, for the first time since David had come back home. David and Sarah had been arguing about it at dinner last week, after the kids had gone to bed.

“I want to go out on a date— _alone_ —with my husband, but he won’t agree to it,” Sarah had said, glass of wine tipping slightly in her hand.

David had come out from behind the refrigerator door, face outraged. “I don’t want to leave the kids by themselves.” He slid a beer across the counter to Frank. “I don’t think that’s so strange after everything we’ve been through.”

“It has to happen at some point! We can’t spend every second with them for the rest of their lives.”

“I send them to school, don’t I?”

Frank had stopped with his beer bottle halfway to his mouth. “Jesus Christ, David. Take your wife out for a damn dinner, huh? We’ll watch the kids.”

Sarah’s eyes had flashed to hers. Karen could practically hear her thinking “ _We_? When did you become a _we_?” and had dropped her eyes to her own wine glass, trying to hide that she was thinking the same thing.

Especially because they weren’t a “we.” She and Frank weren’t together.

Not in the way Sarah was thinking, anyway.

But apparently Frank’s offer had been enough for David because he’d just rubbed the back of his neck and said, “I guess you can’t get any safer than Uncle Frank as a babysitter.”

Frank had rolled his eyes. “Cut it with the Uncle Frank shit.”

“Sorry. Uncle Pete.”

Frank had thrown one of the leftover dinner rolls at his head.

And that was that.

He’d apologized to her after they left that night, in the car on the way back to her apartment.

“Sorry I kind of, uh, volunteered you back there without asking.”

“It’s okay. I like Zach and Leo.” Besides, after three months of almost weekly dinners with the Liebermans—she had a standing invitation from Frank every week, but there were some weeks when she was too wrapped up in a story to make it—she’d finally gotten used to the ache of seeing just how much Frank had lost, just how good he must have been as a father.

So instead of family dinner this week, it was dinner-and-game night for Frank and Karen and the kids, and date night for David and Sarah. They’d left a few hours ago but promised to be back before the kids went to bed. “Baby steps,” Sarah had mouthed at her while she and Frank waved them out the door.

Presumably, Leo had come into the kitchen to microwave popcorn while Zach and Frank set up Monopoly in the living room, but she sounded too anxious for that to be her only reason.

“Karen?” she asked after pressing start on the microwave. “Can I ask you something?”

Karen put the last dirty plate in the dishwasher, then straightened. Leo did look nervous, but also determined, like she’d been wanting to ask Karen this for some time and now that she had the chance, she wasn’t going to waste it, no matter how much it cost her.

“Sure,” she answered, casually, like her mind wasn’t racing with the possible questions Leo would want to ask her—not Sarah or David or Frank—that required total privacy. She closed the dishwasher, pushing until she heard it click shut, and leaned back against the countertop to face Leo, careful not to cross her arms.

“I know we’re not supposed to talk about before Pete was…Pete,” Leo said, looking down at her shoes. “But you knew him then, right?”

Karen fought to keep her face neutral. This wasn’t even close to what she’d been expecting, although now it seemed obvious, like she should have seen it coming a mile away.

“I did.”

Leo took a deep breath and looked up at her finally.

“Were you ever scared of him? Back then?”

An alarm went off in Karen’s brain at the same time a piece of her heart broke.

“Are _you_ scared of Pete?”

Leo shook her head slowly, something sad and confused and almost guilty in her eyes, like she felt bad for not being scared of him.

“No. I really like Pete. He teaches me how to fix things, and he talks to me about books. And I know he cares about us; he saved Dad. And Mom and Zach. And me.” She paused. “But he also did all those other things.”

Karen nodded. “He did.”

There was no point denying it. To say anything else would have been a lie.

“So were you scared of him, when he was doing those things?”

And she knew what Leo really wanted to know: The Pete she knew now—did he exist in the Frank the world knew back then? Or had there only been room for blood and violence and murder? Which Frank was the real Frank? Pete? Or the Punisher?

The answer, of course, wasn’t as easy as either/or. They were both him.

But then, if they were both him, that only led to another, much harder question: Was it okay to love someone who had done such horrible things?

She didn’t know. She’d never spent much time trying to figure it out.

It wouldn’t change the fact that she did.

She thought of Frank in that hospital bed, bruised to hell, quietly asking her—begging her—to stay. The smile on his face at her imaginary rocket ship. His awareness of her while he sat in a courtroom, when she came to see him in prison. Throwing his body on top of her, shielding her. Regarding her across a table under yellow light, over black coffee.

She imagined him cuing up a tape just to let her know he was there.

Frank had respected her enough to tell her the truth, had valued her feelings enough to push back with his own, had argued with her because what she said mattered. She hadn’t ever found in him someone to be scared of.

“No,” she said, her voice quiet but honest. She kept her eyes locked on Leo’s. “I wasn’t scared of him.”

Leo swallowed. “Why not?” she whispered.

“I trusted him.” _You never lie to me_. “He never hurt me.”

But that was a lie, wasn’t it? Because she’d felt like she was dying every time he’d walked away from her with no promise to return.

_Get away from this thing. Get away from me._

_I’m already dead._

Karen blinked and refocused, coming back to the kitchen. Leo was standing across from her, her eyes on her shoes again, her brow furrowed like she was thinking hard. She went to her, put her hands on her shoulders and crouched down in front of her, forcing Leo to look at her.

“Leo, we’re not—no one is just one thing. And Pete…” She hesitated. “ _Frank_. He loves you. You and your dad and your mom and Zach. And that’s as real as anything else he’s ever done.” She reached up and brushed away a piece of hair that had fallen out of Leo’s ponytail. “Okay?”

Leo nodded, her eyes welling up with tears, then leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Karen’s neck. She hugged Leo back tight, felt the words “Thanks, Karen” smothered into her hair.

They stayed that way until the microwave beeped and the popcorn was done. Karen let go slowly, stood up and walked over to the microwave. Pulled a bowl from the cabinet, dumped the popcorn into it, and handed it to Leo.

“Why don’t you take this out to the boys?” she said with a smile. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Leo smiled back, and Karen headed for the sink, but Leo’s voice stopped her.

“He loves you, too, you know.”

She froze, turned back around. “What?”

“Pete. He loves you, too.” She was still smiling, but this one was different. Not as shy, more mischievous. Knowing.

They watched each other for a second, and then Leo smiled even bigger and left the room, leaving Karen alone to catch her breath.

\---

It had cooled off outside by the time she and Frank left the Liebermans’ that night, enough that Karen could feel the warmth of his body on her skin while they walked to the car, inches apart. She’d never been particularly great at Monopoly—it had always been Kevin’s game—but tonight she was truly terrible. It took all her concentration not to openly stare at Frank, let alone pay attention to who’d purchased Park Place.

Leo’s words ran through her head on a loop. _He loves you, too, you know_.

If she was being honest with herself, she did know that. He trusted her enough to let her know he was alive, to ask for her help. He took a bullet for her. Frank wasn’t a man who craved much company. The fact that they saw each other on a regular basis was proof enough that he cared.

But she didn’t want Frank to love her the way he loved the Liebermans, or the way she knew he loved Curtis.

She wanted him to take her to bed, to stay the night.

And then never leave.

They crossed the street, rounded the car to the passenger side. Frank opened the door for her, and she stepped around him, murmuring a soft, “Thank you.” Frank’s voice stopped her before she could get in, her body between his and the car.

“Leo okay?”

“Yeah. She’s fine.”

“She looked pretty serious about getting that popcorn.”

Of course he’d noticed.

“She wanted to…ask me something.”

“Anything they should be worried about?” He nodded his head in the direction of the Liebermans’ front door.

“No! God, no.” Karen hesitated, chewing on her lip slightly. “She was asking about you, actually.”

Frank’s eyes darkened. “What about me?”

“Whether I was ever scared of you.”

The look in his eyes intensified. “Is she scared of me?”

“ _No_ , Frank. No.” She put a hand on his chest to steady him. Or maybe just reassure him. “I think she’s just curious about Frank Castle. How he fits into Pete Castiglione.”

He nodded, his eyes far away from her. She left her hand where it was until he came back to her, until his eyes refocused on hers and he wrapped a hand around her fingers, giving them a quick squeeze.

She meant to drop her hand after that—really, she did—but before she could think about it, she was reaching up, resting her palm against his cheek, her thumb stroking his skin just once. And then she was in the car, buckling her seatbelt, hiding her blush in the dark shadows of the car.

Frank closed the door after her and walked around to the driver’s side. They drove for the first few blocks in silence.

“What did you tell her?”

“What?” She’d been staring out the window, but now she turned to look at him. He was watching the road resolutely, his left hand on the steering wheel. She couldn’t see his right hand in the light from the dashboard, but if she had to guess, he had it pressed tight against his thigh, trying to keep it from shaking.

“When she asked if you were ever scared of me.”

“I told her I wasn’t.”

It was his turn to look at her.

“Really?” He said it like he didn’t believe her. They pulled to a stop at a red light. “Not even in the hospital?”

She wasn’t sure if he was referring to the night of the shotgun or when he’d been in handcuffs, but it didn’t matter. The answer was the same.

“Not once I knew you.”

His eyes were sharp on hers. “Not even in the diner—”

“No.” She cut him off, her voice loud, too loud in the stillness of the car. She readjusted. “That was—” _Heartbreak_. She looked down at her hands. Sighed softly. Looked back up toward the street in front of them. “That was something else.”

They were still stopped. This was the longest red light in the world.

“You always keep me safe,” she said quietly.

She felt Frank shift in his seat next to her, the movement a map of discomfort and uncertainty.

“Get you into trouble a fair amount, too.”

“We both know I do a fine job of that on my own.”

The light turned green.

“Almost got you blown up once.”

“I would have been there that day even if you weren’t.” She closed her eyes, and for a second, she was back in the hotel kitchen, Lewis’s heavy breathing at her neck, his arm around her chest, her eyes latched on to Frank. Her way out. Together they’d find a way out. She took a deep breath, opened her eyes, and she was back in the car. “Wouldn’t be here, though.”

“Yeah, well…” Frank’s voice drifted off, lost for words or reliving that day in his own mind, she couldn’t tell. “Wouldn’t be here without you, either.”

Karen turned her gaze to the passenger side window, so Frank wouldn’t see the look on her face or the tears in her eyes, but they were two feet apart in the car. There was no way he didn’t know.

Frank’s fingers found hers, pulling her left hand toward him. She didn’t realize what he was doing until she felt his breath on her fingers, the lightest touch of his lips. She looked at him then, and he met her eyes, their hands still inches from his mouth. He rubbed his thumb across her knuckles and turned his eyes back to the road, letting their hands falls into his lap.

They stayed there the rest of the way home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
